


Perfect

by QueenOfNewOrleans22



Category: Bon Jovi (Band)
Genre: Eating Disorders, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:23:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23918239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfNewOrleans22/pseuds/QueenOfNewOrleans22
Summary: Jon is in a fragile state of mind. Richie helps.WARNING- If you struggle with disordered eating and\or Mental health issues, it may be best to skip this one.
Relationships: Jon Bon Jovi/Richie Sambora
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	Perfect

**Author's Note:**

> I know that my writing isn't very good in this one, but I had to get it off my chest.

"I'm _f_ _at."_

Richard Sambora was a man of words. Of noise. Of loud and soft, of reassurances and cheesy jokes. 

"I'm _ug_ _ly,_ Rich." 

His voice laced with desperation, his face etched with panic. Fingers curled around Richie's biceps, pulling him close in a weak embrace. 

"Why-Why are you with me?" 

Earlier that night, Richie had found Jon forcing himself to vomit, crouched in front of the toilet and gagging, yrying to eject whatever he'd eaten earlier, sobbing and looking so helpless, so much like he used to when he was younger. Back then, Richie would hold back Jon's hair and and wonder 'why?' because his mind, young and innocent, was unaware of how somebody, especially somebody as physically attractive as Jon was, as _thin_ as Jon was, could force themselves to throw up because they, for some reason, were under the impression that they were fat, imperfect. He never asked, but he always wondered, always considered, trying to wrap his Mind around the enigma that was trying to be skinny when, in reality, you were alreasy skinny. 

_T_ _oo_ skinny. 

But now, at sixty-one, Richie knew. Had spent enough time around all those girls at concerts, around models, around _Jon, t_ o know why, to know that he wouldn't, couldn't understand what somebody would do to be perfect. He knew why Jon starved himself, why eating would prove to be such a challenge, why he always tried to say in such perfect shape even while he was falling apart. He'd crouch next to Jon, wrap his Arm around Jon's too-thin waist, sit by and stay silent, until Jon would stop, too exhausted to go on any longer, purged of whatever he'd eaten, guilty yet proud at the same time. 

"Because I love you." Richie replied. He'd helped the younger man brush his teeth afterwards, getting rid of the taste of vomit, and had tried to get Them back to Bed but Jon had been reluctant. "You're gorgeous, baby." Richie meant it. He meant it every time he said it. 

"No, I'm not." Jon said, but there was no more fight in jim after that. His fingers were tight around Richie's arms, his head cushioned against Richie's chest. He was drifting off, too tired to do much else. 

"You're perfect." Richie said. He meant it. 

He meant it every time. 


End file.
